


In which Bang enjoys her coffee

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: blundering onward [22]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: I am too invested in this series, Multi, Please Send Help, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 06:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: ...oh, and tormenting Gil. Definitely that, too.





	In which Bang enjoys her coffee

Gil sat frozen, his coffee cup held just at the level of his mouth. He stared, and he grappled with the latest blow to his reality. “What?” His brow furrowed, and his eyes scrunched at the corners, the way they did when he had rambled his sciencey stuff in too many directions and lost the point of what he was supposed to be studying. 

Bangladesh DuPree pulled a flask from her boot and poured a little of its contents into her own cup. “What, what?” She knew perfectly well what. She just wanted to make him say it. 

“You…  _knew?_ ”

“Are you kidding?” DuPree rewarded him by reaching across to tip some of the liquid from the flask into his coffee as well. “You’re not very good at hiding your feelings, and I don’t think you were trying.”

“But  _I_  didn’t know!” Gil objected, drawing too much attention from everyone in the cafe. DuPree shut him up by depositing the last pastry on his plate. He took a slow, sulky sip of his coffee. 

“Of course you didn’t. You’re ill-equipped to know your own feelings.”

“You might as well have said I was badly brought up.”

Bangladesh DuPree took a noisy slurp of her coffee. She waited. She did it again. Gil surrendered with a satisfying noise of mingled disgust and frustration. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, reaching for the pastry. “You have a point.”

DuPree preened. He admitted it so rarely, but she always knew what she was talking about. Sparks. They just liked to be the ones to know all the things. “Of course I do.” She poured more liquid into Gil’s cup. 

“Okay, enough.” The spoilsport moved his coffee beyond her reach. 

“Lightweight.” Bangladesh DuPree took a drink directly from the flask before she returned it to her boot. The sharp cinnamon liquor burned her tongue. She smiled. 

Gil misconstrued it. Of course he did. 

“ _How long_  have you known?”

The question actually made her stop and search her memories. “Huh. When you gave him to me to protect, I think.” DuPree flicked her fingernails against the side of her cup. “Yeah, you don’t do that for just anybody, not even super-important allies.” She warmed to her tale as she spun it. “See, then you got all Madboy-frothing-angry about him getting taken. Then you got all prettied up to save him. Then you agreed to the engagement—”

Gil choked on his pastry. “ _You heard that?_ ” he sputtered, spraying crumbs on the table. 

“Pssht, yeah. I was busy, but not  _that_  busy.” Oh, how Gil squirmed. DuPree shot a smug look at him. “You seriously thought he was joking? That’s so you. Pathetic.” She slurped her coffee again. 

“Thanks.” Gil grimaced. “You might have mentioned.”

“And spoil the surprise? Hah!”

“A Muse in my bedroom certainly was a surprise.” Gil had that look of losing himself in thought, and DuPree felt a twinge of pity for him. He really had no idea. 

“Pathetic,” she repeated, more softly. How had Gil missed the look on Squealy’s face when he had insisted on a betrothal gift? And then, in the days that followed— “I didn’t expect the two of you to go through with it,” she said, offering balm to Gil’s ego. “Sure, any idiot could see how you cared for each other, but I figured you’d let all those dumb misunderstandings of yours get in the way.”

Gil sulked in that trying-not-to-sulk way of his. “He's… pretty determined.”

“Also just pretty.”  DuPree crowed with laughter when Gil turned a satisfying shade of red. She pressed the advantage. “Yeah, sure,  _determined_.” She made an explicit gesture just as one of the waitstaff stopped by to refresh their coffees. Looking like he wanted to melt beneath the table, Gil blushed all the more furiously, and DuPree nearly hyperventilated in her unchecked mirth. The joke was on Klaus, really, that he ever believed his son could live up to that ridiculous Paris reputation. 

Klaus. That old killjoy. What would he have to say about Gil’s impending marriage? Probably “I ABSOLUTELY FORBID IT!” or something equally dull. Blah, blah, “political disaster” and so on. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered, outside of the fact that she had never seen Gilgamesh Wulfenbach this happy. If being married to Squealy under the thumb of the Heterodyne was what it took to get him to loosen up and enjoy life, then by all the gods, he would have that!

Of course, she had a sacred duty to give him hell about it. 

“So, how many severed heads do you want for a wedding gift?”

“What! No! No severed heads!” Gil yelped, probably loud enough to disappoint most of the locals. 

“What about hands?”

“No hands!”

DuPree swirled the coffee in her cup. “I heard that the head of the Greenclaw family is giving you an atrocity. I’ll shame us if I do less.”

“I can handle a little shame,” Gil insisted. He was wrong. 

“I guess I’ll just have to get creative—”

“No gift!”

Bangladesh DuPree grinned. Oh, this  _would_  be fun.


End file.
